


Find Me

by lunchinanelevator



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchinanelevator/pseuds/lunchinanelevator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little ride-along to "See-Through," set in the Denialverse just after the verdict. Written for sweetjamielee's "Plan B" summer ficathon, off the prompt "Kalinda/Lana: Loyalties."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find Me

There are traces of a smile on Kalinda’s lips when she opens the door. “How did you even find me?” she asks.

“Let’s just acknowledge that we’re both pretty good at our jobs,” Lana answers. She allows her own smile to mirror Kalinda’s, almost teasing.

They study each other for a second. It’s not the first time Lana’s seen Kalinda without makeup, but it may be the first time she’s seen Kalinda look tired, tiny soft pockets of flesh bunching out beneath lashes long and elegant even without mascara, glassy eyes. Lana hadn’t planned to follow Kalinda after the verdict, not exactly; she’d just been waiting outside the courthouse hoping to get in a touch, a word. She’d waited several hours, playing patiently with her phone and watching crowds dissipate in the periphery, and when Kalinda finally walked by, quite alone and quite oblivious to anything around her, Lana couldn’t stop watching. Her feet seemed to lead her of their own accord; she didn’t doubt that Kalinda was much easier to follow than usual in this state, but she trotted about half a block behind her for a much longer walk than her pumps were suited for and loitered with her smartphone an eavesdroppable distance from the front desk while Kalinda checked in. It’s a graceful hotel, full to the brim with conventioneers. If Lana hadn’t seen Kalinda interact with the twenty-year-old boy running the front desk, she would wonder how Kalinda had possibly gotten a room.

“Come in,” Kalinda says finally, quietly.

Lana follows, equally quietly. The room is pretty and white and generic, not even a wrinkle on the bedspread or a handbag on the floor to declare Kalinda’s presence in it. Kalinda shuts the door and slides the chain lock into place. Then she says, “You were at the trial.”

“Most of it,” Lana says. She guesses there’s not really any point in pretending. Lana has seen Kalinda broken, desperate, seen her something like destroyed.

Kalinda’s eyes are huge and still. “Lana …”

But there’s no point in dwelling on it either. Lana shakes her head and reaches for Kalinda. She’s surprised to find the other woman in her arms, against her lips, without hesitation. Kalinda sheds her jacket as she kisses Lana, twists her fingers underneath Lana’s bra straps. It’s their old dance, their old MO, Lana can’t even count the number of years now, but it has a new flavor to it. Lana’s heard that jail, whatever else it is, can be a mecca for gay women, but Kalinda’s hunger feels fuller to Lana than it ever has. It has clearly been a while.

“You didn’t come to see me,” Kalinda murmurs.

“Kalinda, I came to court every day I could.”

“No, I mean …” Kalinda trails off, letting her words fade into a nuzzle behind Lana’s ear.

“Would you have wanted me to?” Lana says cautiously.

Kalinda pauses and considers, then shakes her head vigorously against Lana, causing a pleasant sensation at the nape of Lana’s neck. Lana exhales through her nose and closes her eyes. The thought of visiting Kalinda in jail scared the shit out of her. Lana catches criminals. It’s what she does, and while she admits she’s met both cops and prosecutors who aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed, she trusts the work they do, knows which side she would have had to be on.

Lana runs her hands down Kalinda’s arms, over her wrists. She knows what it will be like at work while the news is still big. There’ll be talk of some kind of federal case—manslaughter, maybe. They always chat about that, when a not-guilty verdict seems like a travesty. But eventually, like always, they will realize that they are the Bureau, they have bigger fish to fry. The story will fade from the news and from their minds, and Lana will stop feeling landmines against her toes.

“Thank you for coming,” Kalinda says, her lips somewhere in the space between Lana’s breasts. Lana pulls her to the bed and believes her.


End file.
